Wednesday, 29 October 2014

“Under Siege!” read the headlines today. The news from Canada’s national capital, the Parliament Buildings in Ottawa, received global attention. For many countries it became the top story. A gunman managed his way into the Parliament Buildings and fired away, killing one security guard, and in the process of his madness, lost his own life. People are rather shocked that such a crazed person was able to enter the nation’s inner sanctum.

We live in very disturbed times. It is a feature of the era of ignorance, kali. In the case of the gunman who lost his life, apparently it was the shadow of irreligion that clouded the man’s consciousness. Obviously he was not at peace with himself. And once again the jihad notion gives religion a bad name.

After I had heard the news from a friend who informed me by phone from New York, I felt a shake up feeling inside. What was ironic about this sad day, however, is that many calls came in from people, but not to do with the tragedy in Ottawa. The calls were actual inquiries about Diwali, the New Year. This event commemorates Rama’s glorious victory over evil forces. “When are we celebrating Diwali?” and “How are we celebrating Diwali?” people asked. It was hours of this that I played telephone reception. A good crowd came in the evening to chant, hear readings of the Ramayan, and partake in prasadam.

By the day’s end I could get out to walk to take time to reflect and perhaps even to redefine my take on this dual world in which we live. On the one hand you have darkness and on the other hand you have something that lights up.

I was hosted by Dharma and Manasi Ganga, a couple from Mississauga. After the overnight stay, I helped myself to the streets before dawn. It’s somewhat easy to get lost, being in the dark, and in the area of cookie-cut homes (where all looks the same), and lastly, when you put priority on the sound of the early morning – the maha mantra.

Emanating from this humble servant’s mouth is Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, etc. Outside of that, the odd car drives by, someone’s en route to work, or on a return, home after a graveyard shift. And, as far as sound goes, I did hear a peep out of one bird. Vayu, the wind god, didn’t help with the sound, he seemed to be asleep, and this was indicative of the pervading quiet. Not even leaves were rustling. At the edge of a forest signage tells of the presence of coyotes, and that from dusk to dawn it was not advisable to lurk there with a pet.

No problem for me, my only pet is the strand of beads of benevolence that I’m carrying. I was determined to put them to my usual vigilant use. Beads have an anchoring effect in much the same way that a murti or deity of Krishna anchors the mind. With that tactile sense, the fingers roll over those precious beads and gain a feeling of groundedness.

I felt quite at home, though the sounds of summer are now silenced and the air, to my rating is fresh. The enhanced solitude after days of crowds, queues and traffic, was quite welcome. The early morning is meant for that, solitude and meditation.

I merely spent a few hours at ISKCON Hyderabad. Hyderabad is a progressive city in the south, population I was told is 8 million. Traffic is very full. You are a hero to cross the street in the downtown rush. Cars rule here, walkers have a tough time to triumph. I had asked about a quiet walking trail near ISKCON’s guest house where I stayed overnight. The response, in the local language (Telegu, I believe) was, “No way.” Consolingly, the temple itself has a shanti or peaceful atmosphere where one can pace up and down in a safe fashion.

The night prior I was asked to chant and then to speak from the Gita, 2.60, “The senses are so strong and impetuous, Oh Arjuna, that they forcibly carry away the mind, even of a man of discrimination who is endeavouring to control them.”

This entire day, however, was an in the air experience. Embarking from Hyderabad to London and then Toronto, I had given most time to reading devotional material. It was in the beginning of the trip that mercy came my way – love really. The person looking after me with room service in Tirupati, and a much needed massage, is actually from Hyderabad. And while I was waiting for the day’s first flight, airport authorities sought me out at the waiting area and handed a phone to me. The call came in from this same fellow, Vijay Kumar by name, but I couldn’t decipher who he was or what he was saying. I took the call as a mistake. Minutes later Vijay had driven all the way to the airport and had prasadam (divine food) of dosas and sambar, South Indian specialties, packaged in a small bag which was sent through security tagged and all. He left a note inside the bag.

I was surprised at Vijay’s kindness. He went through such an extent to cook a meal for me and to see that I didn’t have to fully rely on airplane food. With this loving sentiment, I left India. As I always experience, I am left with heart melting gestures from people of that devotional land. Yes there is this crazy hustle bustle about the place, but there is always an underlying spirit of bhakti in the atmosphere. I only feel bad that I can’t reciprocate with Vijay. I did not pick up his number during my stay. Woe is me!

May the Source be with you!

0 KM Except for all the walking done in the corridors of Heathrow Airport.

He said it like it was a mantra, repetitiously. “See the Swami! See the Swami! See the…”
It was one of the pandas (priests) repeating these words in reference to us, the pilgrims, viewing Balaji, a self-manifested Visnu form who stands sternly at His shrine. His white marking is iconic – bold and beautiful, and perhaps overdone. The explanation is that the white paste covering His eyes is because He is not prone to see the evil of man in this world. A similar white marking at the chin represents remedial herbs applied because once, when manifested as a young man, a furious fellow hurled an iron rod at His chin which left an injury.

The place is Tirumala, which translates as “the mountain of the abode of Laxmi (the Goddess of Fortune).” And the big attraction at the mountain’s peak is Balaji Himself who draws a bigger crowd and more funds than the Vatican. Each day, faithful people contribute collectively crores of rupees as donations.

The place is fascinating. Myself and peers, mostly my monk brothers and sisters from North America and Europe had the viewing of Balaji at which time, we also did a tight circumambulation around this temple, followed by a trek on a more wide angled path. Incidentally on this path was a beautiful dance formation of young men who routinely stepped in circular fashion around a zealous drummer’s beat. The dancers held a shaker to make sound in the right hand, and a red cloth which they’d flick at a particular rhythmic beat in their left hand.

All the while that we were on the grounds there, there was an audible mantra recorded. It was in praise of Balaji: “Om namo venkatesvarayah.” The reciprocation for visiting with your voluntary donation is a bowling ball-sized sweet called laddu. This I will save for the monks in the ashram back in Toronto. It will be the sure proof that I did some serious pilgrimage at this unique place in South India.

It’s been a nice change, leaving the shoes behind in the room and going for several days everywhere barefoot. I’m making brief trips generally going from one building to the other at the temple campus. It also means taking to flights of stairs several times over.

Instead of waiting for the elevator, Devamrita Swami decided to climb the stairs to the 4th floor of one building where we were holding meetings. I followed him. Tirtharaj, another friend from Australia, followed. A chain began. Moving at a good speed, Tirtharaj remarked, “We will all do a cardio test after this.” The three of us are all in our 60s and are not yet struggling too much physically. We ascended with little sweat.

It was announced at today’s meeting that I’ll be embarking on a walk from Boston to New York via Butler, Pennsylvania next year to honour a golden jubilee event. It will be 50 years since our guru Srila Prabhupada made a historical milestone – landing on American soil as an ambassador to the spiritual world. In any event, this anticipated effort of my walking to commemorate the unofficial kick start of the Hare Krishna movement was really appreciated by peers.

The several days meetings came to a close. With the hot topic of ‘female gurus’ a consensus was concluded. The majority of the group are generally in favour of having qualified ladies to function and be official teachers as diksa gurus. After a three day intensive on the subject we came to a happy conclusion.

There are 70 monks who live on the premises here at Tirupati. They are a happy group. I recognize some of the older as well as younger ones from my visit two years ago. I’m sure there’s some turnover. Naturally, there will be a departure for some. Not culturally, but vocationally. Some will get married. There will also be a hardcore portion of them that will make this monastic life their lifestyle until they reach their physical end.

I had received an emergency call from Canada. The news was about a young couple who are splitting. When I heard this my heart sank to hear of this failure. Vows of commitment were made and yet the relationship didn’t have strong “go” for a very extended time. Naturally the two were struggling and were strained in their communication. Tolerance and patience did not take a priority on either end of the stick.

Though the two individuals have called it quits on each other, by some divine revelation a glimmer of hope may cause a relook and a return of the situation. There’s always that chance. It’s always good to keep the doors open. If you can imagine at one time there was love that has now become faded. Romance is like a pickle (stimulating), but know it to be fickle. We forget that real love is service to each other.

If there’s anything about kali yuga (dark age) that is dominant it appears to be this one. The breakup of couples. Who wants it? Neither he nor she, friends, family, guru, or God find joy in a bond broken.

A word of caution: before tying the knot, know whom you’re hooking up with. Be assured that there are elements about the other person that you will not like. Who is perfect after all? Concentrate more on your own shortcomings. There is so much to be said about relationship issues. Some people are better off as permanent monks or nuns who make firm their relationship with the Divine.

Monday, 20 October 2014

A light rain hit all the rooftops before the sun rose. I was on that veranda unaffected by wetness. Above me is the next floor creating a natural awning. I could chant in peace and in dryness at an hour when temperatures are coolest.

My friend, Akrura, from Canada, had previously walked the streets and made an interesting observation about trekking in the sun, “You end up sweating in places on your body you never knew were possible.” We both concluded it is just downright muggy here in Tiruapti.

Another peer, Madhusevata, told another dynamic which took place when he was a young brahmachari monk in Kolkata in the 70’s, “At night the cockroaches would come out, but what’s worse were the rats chewing on the back of our feet as we were asleep. The rats had this habit to blow on the wound in order that you wouldn’t feel the pain quite so severely. You couldn’t detect what they were doing until you woke up. They would bite then blow.”

Madhusevata hails from Italy. When he joined he wasn’t yet married. He pioneered Krishna Consciousness with his Indian friends in this very congested city. I guess you could say he’s a real success story. He went on to become a major leader with a mission in his homeland Italy and built up Hare Krishna Villagio, in a village not but a few miles from Milano.

It was Madhu, Akrura, and others who enjoyed kirtan in the morning as I did in the exotic temple right next to where I did my pacing on the veranda. The murtis (sacred images) are named Radha Govinda. They are decorated stunningly each day. When the pujari priest brought his jasmine flowers towards the deities, and strikes the clothing, suddenly there’s a shimmer from the cloth which adds to the divine glamour which each morning displays the quality of otherworldliness.

Far beyond being drenched in sweat or rain, harassed by roaches or rats, is the spiritual world.

It was quite the day. I do enjoy the company of my swami friends, godbrothers. There are good talks amongst us, with godsisters as well. We talked philosophically which means we as a group are going deeper into the field of life.

Physically though, anyone amongst us would admit that humidity and heat is intense, and would resort to the use of AC with or without the addition of ceieling fans. In coolness, there is an eeasier chance of processing information.

It was quite the day and after talks, I did my walk up and down the veranda. Then I submitted to my room and plopped my body on one of those fancy Rajasthani chairs. I reached up for the Bhagavad Gita while acknowledging the wording on the rear side of the book’s cover, “The most widely read edition of Gita in the world.” I flipped over to verse 13.35. This resonates. “Those who see with eyes of knowledge the difference between the body and the knower of the body and can understand the process of liberation from bondage in material nature attain to the supreme goal.”

Further enlightening words arise from the purport:

“One can understand that the body is matter. It can be analyzed with its 24 elements. The body is a gross manifestation, and a subtle manifestation is the mind and psychological effects, and the symptoms of life are the interaction of these features. Yet over and above this, there is a soul.”

I doubt very much that he was the same bat I met two years ago in the same spot. He was fluttering about in the space that wasn’t really mine. I can’t reach that high, but almost. He can carefully manoeuvre himself just above arms-length, stretched up. These bats normally do.

I was chanting my japa, (mantras on beads) along the lengthy veranda at the Tirupati ISKCON Guest House when I met this fellow. It was his eating time, night-time. Like you see a lot of western youth with their invincible tummies having pizzas at night, this nocturnal winged wonder my bat friend got his munching in at what folklore calls the witches hour.

I think he was doing well due to the bugs galore. I can’t fault him for not eating veggies and not devouring with honour that which we call prasadam, food blessed by brahmins. My little bat friend was preying on what’s natural for him.

As humans we have so many choices for food. I had a brief four-hours-stay in the guest house at Hyderabad. During that time I was asked to speak to the brahmachari monks from a Bhagavatam verse, Canto One. The interesting topic was about looking at emergency situations where meat consumption may be permitted. In general, under normal circumstances, we humans commit to satvic food, food in goodness. Ultimately the choice is yours.

Again, my friend, was following his natural aptitude, his dharma. And that’s why I call him my amigo. I was glad not to be alone, in fact, at that quiet hour on the veranda. I still wondered if he was the same fella of two years past.

The answer hangs in the air like a bat at night time. If it’s a new guy, then I have two friends now. The more the merrier. I hope to meet him tomorrow.

It being Thanksgiving Day, we can consider a day to express gratitude. “For what?” you may ask. For at least what has come to you today, because the task to say merci beaucoup to all the nice people that have come to your life would be impossible. Consider, however, that whatever has come to you as good or bad circumstances, are all welcome, because they shape us all. Thank the shapers and love who you are.

I decided to be grateful for the people in my presence today, and the environment of today. I decided to BE HERE NOW. After hummous and toast sandwich, I took to a trail which might lead me to where the other three monk had apparently slipped off to. I wanted to relay to them my thanks to them about the good company they provide.

Well, I never did detect them. No foot tracks or evidence of their wanderings were clues for me. I then took to one of dozens of trails. I stepped by moose hoof prints and felt the animal’s spirit. I spotted a grouse, a chipmunk, and felt their presence. Even so, I heard the woodpecker tapping his tree and viewed the green moss and the white of the peeling birch. The smell of the spruce spurred me on. All this was my company and I said, “Hare Krishna,” as a way to express thanks.

The footpath was the way I like it. It was sloping up and down and sideways. There were areas of moistness and dryness, of sand and black soil, of laden twigs, leaves, bark and rock. The path was an ankle strengthener and an eye alerter. I was grateful even though I could not find the lost monks.

It’s all quite relative, isn’t it? Perhaps I’ve become the lost monk. Let’s take this as a metaphor on life and when on the spiritual path, there must always be a sense of direction, and even more so, a sense of gratitude.

Thus ends the walk for today, and the super meetings of the weekend. En route to Montreal’s airport, my auto companions, Sahadeva, Vrinda, and Gauramani and I, spent the hour pulling out the highlights of three days. It was so fitting considering the day.

We did plod the country road, but in the dark, after
meetings that mattered. Three Canuck monks and I took to the gentle up
and down course. It was down time after a long but rich day of discussion
and presentation.

These presentations of a "close-to-the-heart" sort
moved my emotions as there was vision behind such initiatives.
"Think for the future" was the theme. And as I heard the voice
of 'care' in the air I looked out several times through the resort's window to
trees drip of tears.

I think they were hearing our message of opportunities
missed, hence the tears. They were an actual transformation of the
lightest frost melting in the sun's warmth.

Triumphantly rose the yellow leaves of the aspen shaking for
joy because not all occasions we spoke of were grim. There has been far
greater victory over defeats of the past.

Once our walk had terminated we found some of the weekend
crew still in the dining lounge space engaged in happy chatter over the old and
gold days, of the times spent in jail because we were misunderstood. I
joined in and oh yes, lest I forget, I escaped a near-death fire and when a
moving train bashed again and again at our stalled vehicle on the tracks while
I, the driver, sat there frozen in shock.

When I think of life as a Krishna monk in the 70's and the
monks of now who live on easy street, it is like night and day.

Millions of fallen leaves were under the foot until it
stepped down to be submerged by them, both moist and dry. But not so dry
were they that they would break to flakes. The challenge was to take them
at a slope with the extra stretch and stride for a leap over the log.

The log was also a submergee. You are looking for a
solid something to anchor your foot but it most helplessly falls prey to the
rot beyond the bark. It's deceptive. You then pull out the captive
foot and search for a more secure footing.

This climb is not possible without the young and older
living trees that serve to offer themselves as we grasped them. Speak of
anchor, well, that's exactly what they are.

The water cascading over rocks is the creek that makes the
sound pleasant enough for our meditation, japa or chanting to the finger-roll
on our beads. Only a few minutes is sufficient for relishing a moment
before it was time to trail on. The rocks we sat on were just too nippy
on the butt.

There were four butts, excuse me, bhaktas, devotees who
decided on this brief trek of adventure, which lead us to wonder and wander
this wilderness. We had spent a full day on couchy-material over
meaningful meetings. Our stroll through the woods, reminding us of mutual
guardianship, was of equal significance because you couldn't help but think of
the master craftsman behind it all.

It takes some hours to reach this destination near the
reputed Mount Tremblant in Quebec. Unfortunately it was not on foot but
cab, plane and car. I had great company though, Vrinda from Winnipeg and
Sahadeva from Calgary. We travelled and wish listed much of the way over
en route to partake in our annual Krishna Consciousness leaders meetings for
Canada.

We had reached a rustic retreat place nestled in Laurentian
Mountain territory. Once we arrived and settled in I took note of remarks
made by our guru, Srila Prabhupada, from an article recorded on Dec 1, 1966 in
New York City.

Some significant points made are as follows:

Kirtan usually means describing.

Unless you hear you cannot describe

God has given you power of hearing,

The process to acquire knowledge is hearing.

There are two processes of knowledge, ascending and
descending.

The ascending process means trying to go high by your (own)
strength and the descending process means receiving the pure knowledge from
above.

And we have four kinds of imperfectness - (the tendency) to
commit mistakes, to be in illusion, our senses are imperfect, and the
propensity to cheat.

Our attempt to understand the Absolute Truth by our faulty
senses and experience is futile. We must hear, sravanam. That is
the Vedic process.

Thursday, 16 October 2014

I had Googled the topic "Origins of Walking". And the response I received was not surprising. You'll get all this speculation (directions Darwin) about when apes came out of trees and became erect. That's when they, or we, apparently learned how to walk.

There is tons of material on You-Tube about moon walking. Very entertaining! And this is pre-Michael Jackson material. Yes, he has predecessors. There's a succession of moon-walking dancers. Michael was not the inventor.

When I was twenty and I started mantra meditation and reading the Bhagavad-gita, I became so filled in thought with the Gita's speaker, Sri Krishna. I used to imagine Him walking next to me on the way to school, even in the snow. I had superimposed Him as a walking companion. Reading about His being the Source, the origin of all, I concluded that walking began with Him. He did this with grace, a good stride and not touching the ground. Snow? Yes, He might heave imprints in the fluffy white stuff.

Walking in that phase in my life and having Him next to me gave me good reason not to bus or hitch-hike to college. At least I could say that my imaginative mind was put to good use. The subject, Krishna, and the object, Krishna was reassuring to me. I felt safe walking as traffic roared by me.

Regarding origins of walking, I am not sold on evolutionary theories. I always felt a Creator, someone whom you and I can and cannot perceive; someone who mystically (beyond scientific explanation) can travel and not have human legs.

It is natural to be logical about life. It is also natural to believe in the unexplainable. As the Gita expresses in its final verse, there is someone called Yogeshvara, the Supreme Mystic.

Monday, 13 October 2014

Recently a friend pointed out that actor / political head Arnold Schwarzenegger was quoted in a men’s fitness magazine as attributing his success to the meditation he’s done. Perhaps there’s a trend among politicians.

We’ve also heard of former Prime Minister of the U.K., Tony Blair, speaking of the need for spiritual values being in people’s lives. Also the current head of India, Prime Minister Modi is generously delivering Bhagavad-gitas to world leaders as he meets them and speaking of the virtues of yoga at the 69th session of the United Nations. President Barack Obama had carried a small brass deity of Hanuman as a good luck charm. Is Mr. Obama going Vedic?

Closer to home, the very controversial mayor of Toronto, Rob Ford, made a diplomatic utterance of “Hare Krishna” at our Festival of Chariots this last summer on Centre Island in Toronto.

And I’m sure there are more examples of our leaders taking or talking of a spiritual edge. It’s about time. Of course, speaking and doing from the heart is always better than the motive of seeking votes. Let’s give the benefit of the doubt. Integrity lies in everyone, even if it’s in the deepest recesses of the heart.

Personally I’m looking forward to the day when a political leader will say, “Walk, Chant, Love.” “Love” implying for the Absolute.

Usually when people speak of a Patel, a common name in
Gujurat, you refer to one who's quite familiar with the personality, Sri
Krishna. It comes natural for someone from the Gujurat state in western
India to have reverence towards Nataji, or Krishna.

It was fortunate for the family from Hamilton and I to be
hosted by the two Patel brothers and their families and to be accomodated in a
Patel Motel.

Jaya Gopal (Patel) led us on an autumn trail, a stretch of
the Trans Canada Trail. The gods were with us providing sunshine,
moderate temperatures in the mid-teens (Celsius) and with a pleasant
breeze. Waterfalls and rapids were by our side at Saugeen Pines
surcharging an oxygenized air.

We trampled on colours of scattered fallen leaves which was
almost painful to see by dint of utter brilliance. The sun drew extended
shafts of light through hard and soft wood trees. It was like lasers
coming at us as we strolled and dodged some puddles and muddy patches along the
way. We were in heaven.

But one man was in Mars. Upon our returning from this
late morning trek, the motel (Riverside Inn) was being under repair while
undergoing its remodeling. Vladmir had been on the roof shovelling off
caked-on years of BS (bird stool) while a second worker, on a ladder opening
the ceiling, introduced himself as hailing from Mars, or so he declared.
Steve could easily be my age. When seeing my attire he got curious and
expressed his doubts about life, the world and God. The remark about Mars
was a joke. He was jovial enough, judging by his well-groomed hair,
self-worth was important. Not in a challenging or accusatory tone he
expressed why wars are started by religions? This is classic inquiry.

To respond I offered, "In truth we need to be more of a
realized or experienced spiritualist then a religionist. There's a gulf
of difference."

Actually my day today did not provide for me any wonder of
walking, other than a short jaunt, a measly 2 kilometer trek through posh and
tree-blessed Rosedale neighbourhood with peer, Kalyapani. That was just
before a car trip bound north. During the short and sweet trek it was
serene and lightly a drizzle graced our heads. October 6th swallowed me
up on three triumphant visitations to people of inspiration.

Firstly, a family from North Hamilton, Vrajadhama, wife
Nityananda and young 20 month old Arjuna, picked me up for a visit to Rami
Bleckt, author of a number of books on happiness, self-realization. He is
a good acquaintance with Dr. David Frawley, a foremost Ayurveda doctor.
Rami, himself a doctor/astrologer, impressed us with insight at his home in
Duntroon, a small village north of Toronto.

He looked at me before even looking at my palm
and relayed what he consider my physical internal challenges. He
gave remedies, an adjustment in diet and a colon cleansing. With
Vrajadhama he looked at his past through astrological calculation and offered
advice on the most favourable vocation for him - farming.

The topic of food had also occupied our conversations as it
did one hundred kilometers east, near Sutton Ontario. There we visited
Jai, Rasa, and their four kids at their farm where two milking cows provide the
family with the great miracle of food. Significant here, apart from the
devotion to Krishna that the family imbibes in, is their commitment to cow and
bull protection. Ahimsa is the term we most aptly use here. It
means nonviolence imposed - no slaughter. We indulged in the beautiful
and boiled liquid religiosity. And in the good company of a model family.

Another one hundred plus kilometers north took us to
Bracebridge at Riverside Inn, owned and operated by a Patel clan. Bhakti
(devotion) oozes out of this family in behaviour and sadhana practice. A
little more of this group tomorrow.

Well, we had a bit of a problem this morning at the ashram. It had something to do with bodily contortions, moans and groans and twitching eyes. The woman, a visitor, who exhibited these unique features, was asked to be less distractive because she persisted and refused tone down advice we gave her.

To her credit, she wore meditation beads and chanted on them. Even some of her physical stretches demonstrated remarkable ability. It’s just that the psychological diversions and the various moanings began to become non-condusive to our devotional atmosphere, and most unfortunately, the authorities had to be called in to deal with this incommunicable individual. I was impressed by the cautious way and their handling of the situation. From the depths of our hearts, we wish the lady well.

The evening continued to be a time of bodily movement. After the beautiful and tasty birthday cake that I received (and yes, the supportive community did sing “Hare Krishna to you…” instead of the usual “Happy Birthday to you…”), an enthusiastic group headed to Queen Street for some stimulative dancing. It was the annual Nuit Blance, an evening of artistic expression in the downtown. Our kirtan with its drumming got people gyrating and coming up with all kinds of interesting and creative moves.

Being a celebratory day in honour of this humble servant, I was pleased to receive words of gratitude at our temple ashram, but it was equally as exciting to co-lead the kirtan with Ajamil and watch the various happy contortions of people’s physical frames. At some intervals of the chanting sessions, people came up one by one to the mic to recite the maha mantra.

All this ecstasy took place in front of the stately Old City Hall. When the tower’s massive clock struck midnight, from there I walked with friends from Michigan back to the ashram. In the course of the walk as we trailed through, or struggled through crowds which numbered at 1 million strong, a meagre realization came about. There has to be as many different ways of walking as there are people. Body movement has no limit it seems.

Well, we had a bit of a problem this morning at the ashram. It had something to do with bodily contortions, moans and groans and twitching eyes. The woman, a visitor, who exhibited these unique features, was asked to be less distractive because she persisted and refused tone down advice we gave her.

To her credit, she wore meditation beads and chanted on them. Even some of her physical stretches demonstrated remarkable ability. It’s just that the psychological diversions and the various moanings began to become non-condusive to our devotional atmosphere, and most unfortunately, the authorities had to be called in to deal with this incommunicable individual. I was impressed by the cautious way and their handling of the situation. From the depths of our hearts, we wish the lady well.

The evening continued to be a time of bodily movement. After the beautiful and tasty birthday cake that I received (and yes, the supportive community did sing “Hare Krishna to you…” instead of the usual “Happy Birthday to you…”), an enthusiastic group headed to Queen Street for some stimulative dancing. It was the annual Nuit Blance, an evening of artistic expression in the downtown. Our kirtan with its drumming got people gyrating and coming up with all kinds of interesting and creative moves.

Being a celebratory day in honour of this humble servant, I was pleased to receive words of gratitude at our temple ashram, but it was equally as exciting to co-lead the kirtan with Ajamil and watch the various happy contortions of people’s physical frames. At some intervals of the chanting sessions, people came up one by one to the mic to recite the maha mantra.

All this ecstasy took place in front of the stately Old City Hall. When the tower’s massive clock struck midnight, from there I walked with friends from Michigan back to the ashram. In the course of the walk as we trailed through, or struggled through crowds which numbered at 1 million strong, a meagre realization came about. There has to be as many different ways of walking as there are people. Body movement has no limit it seems.

The gentleman was oncoming on foot southbound on Bathurst,
likely on his way to a local synagogue. He was in black except for a white
shirt and he bore the standard small Jewish skull cap called a kippa or
yarmulke. He carried a book, a holy one, and I surmised that within
minutes by sundown Yom Keppur would start.

Most of all he wore a smile as he got close to me and then
had a question. "So it's Buddhist, Hindu...?"

"Krishna,” I said, "Hare Krishna, Hindu
connected".

“Yes, I'm an architectural landscapist. I did the
temple on the west end (of Toronto), the Swami Narayan temple.” I was
impressed with his open-ness and warmth. He even complimented the colour
of my attire, "I'm just in black."

He pointed to the building where he was going to meet and
read with the boys, "Most of them are old hippies,” he remarked. We
had more exchange. I think he will remember me as 'the walking man' while
I will remember him as 'the friendly Jew'.

My sister lives just off of Bathurst where so many folks of the
Torah live. She had invited me along with another sister to get together
and have a birthday cake for me, a bowl of cut melon really - with grapes in
the center. It beats a cake with all that sugar in it.

I relayed my encountered with Mr. Friendly to Connie and
Pauline, my sisters, I guess to let them know that walls dont need to be
between faiths. That lead to a discussion about cultures of meagre
tolerance and of fear and hate.

Anyways, let's not go too deep there, it's my
birthday. We were also careful not to talk about Rob Ford, the
mayor. Okay!

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

I believe it was the first engagement I ever attended.
A young couple from our community exchanged rings with a low-key type of
ceremony. Actually the ceremony took the shape of none other than kirtan
which I lead.

I chose a melody not used often but one I've heard from
Vaishnavas in Vrindavan. The family of the young man who master-minded
the quiet function responded so well to a tune they had not heard before.
It just came natural to them. I was impressed.

Although I am who I am with socail status as a monk, I do
participate in such functions which involve couples when it comes time to
solemnize marriages. Persons like myself in the renounced order want to
see people succeed in their dharmic relationships. We wish to see couples
stay together.

In fact, on my way to the Brampton destination while I was
on foot a rather committed couple I've known through the years spotted me on
Eglinton Ave trudging along. They pulled over in wonder to my being in
their neighborhood. It's a Sri Lankan couple in their mid-life age.
With their children of university age the family's done good. I recall
how for years they delivered newspapers daily in our ashram neighborhood.
They were highly regimented at this. You have to be. I used to
admire watching them take turns behind the wheel of the car and the doing that
door-to-door delivery. They kept physically active putting in a few
kilometers every day.

You know, it never fails. Each time I trek a major
thoroughfare there's always someone to recognize you, they will stop, turn
around and get to where you are and make re-acquaintance. It's just one
more plus behind exposing yourself to the out-of-doors and using those legs.

The young engagement couple picked me up at Eglington and
Martin Grove in order to have a great stir-fry Thai type of dinner.

Monday, 6 October 2014

It is always a pleasure to go for that evening walk with a good man whose initials are KK. (Take note there isn’t a third ‘K’.) When we go for that stretch it’s also chat time.

As of late his passion is veganism. Dairy is out of the question for him. Animals, particularly cows and bulls, need our protection and to be spared from the gruesome slaughter industry.

KK, my friend, is also passionate about stereotype attitudes from amongst the spiritual ranks towards gays and women. We talked that one out, in my opinion. My take on it is that everyone, regardless of gender and orientation, has the equal opportunity to advance spiritually. You may call it political-correctness. It’s what I actually firmly believe.

He also argued that not enough is being done to share Krishna Consciousness in an integrated way. Monks of the order insist on the exotic look and behaviour. “There will continue to be so little positive input on society at large due to our more traditional approach regarding dress code and overall way of promoting.” It is K.K.’s general feeling as this is also shared with others.

Despite our orthodox ways, one journalist, a Brendan O’Connor, from the Independent newspaper, expressed that impact is taking place. In an article that just came out on Sunday, O’Connor says, “I was reading somewhere recently that while we might think of Hare Krishna as a marginal cult, their influence on the world we live in now is enormous. The view seems to be that while the religion has not succeeded in the mainstream as such, the ideas have. Everywhere you look there is watered down Hare Krishna-ism, from the kinds of food we eat, to the notion of sustainable, community-based living, to the whole mindfulness thing.”

I picked up this article only after K.K. left and our walk terminated. It might be good food-for-thought. Read his article entitled, “We are all Hare Krishnas now. Meditation goes mainstream.” It’s great!

Friday, 3 October 2014

As I mentioned in the talk, “A Day In The Life Of A Monk” the other day at York U, perhaps one of the most important elements, if not thee most for the mainstay of a monastic is peer association. It is the camaraderie in its shared vision and feeling that provides the highest encouragement.

I know for myself, the gelling of the like minded is a special bond. For instance, if I meet someone whose done the same or similar feat such as a daring long trek, I am spontaneously excited. You can spend hours with such a person merely because you’ve taken a familiar track. It’s the small experiences on the road that become magnified, in the course of dialogue, that means so much.

I feel the same connection with god-brothers/sisters whom I devotionally grew up with. I remember the ashram on Henry Street in New York when a small contingent of our brahmacharis would come to visit from Canada. We shared in the good life of the early rising, the cool shower, the robes of a Vaishnava, the meeting and chanting in the brisk morning, the classes on bhakti, and the missionary endeavours.

I recall seeing Vishnu Gada, a tall young monk, who was staunchly engaged in the kitchen at pot washing and cooking. Seeing him again in Philadelphia this past weekend brought back those memories of fineness. As I was about to leave to return to Canada, Vishnu Gada, as a matter of factly, handed me a gorgeous book (like those that you rest on a coffee table) entitled, “Govardhana: The Hill That Fulfills All Desires” by Bhakti Chaitanya Swami, another god-brother. Full of photos and clarity through captions and text, this book is a gem. It outlines details of this popular hill that pilgrims know so well in Northern India. I’ve done the walk around the hill myself, even as of this past February, to the duration of four hours.

Friends do give and receive gifts to and from each other. On top of that, they exchange powerful words of comfort. It’s a boost.

TRANSLATE

ABOUT ME

I am a disciple of A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, and I became a monk of the Hare Krishna order in 1973. My teacher gave me the spiritual name, Bhaktimarga Swami, which means "the path of devotion". Of course, this fits right in with my avid promotion of walking adventures as a way to connect with the Divine and lead a more care-free / car-free lifestyle. It is a great joy to share these adventures in both Canada and abroad with you via my daily blog.
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ARTICLE: BHAKTIMARGA SWAMI: A LIFE DRAMATIC

CLICK ON PHOTO TO READ FULL ARTICLE FEATURED ON ISKCON NEWS: To ISKCON devotees everywhere, the name Bhaktimarga Swami conjures up images of powerful, out-of-the-box stage productions; and of energetic kirtans, full of stomping dance moves and jubilant smiles...